


21p Creativity Drabbles

by headfirstfrhalos



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi, Writing Exercise, each chapter is tagged separately
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:39:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headfirstfrhalos/pseuds/headfirstfrhalos
Summary: Here's a collection of 21p-based writing exercises, based on five categories of prompts: senses, dialogue, objects, emotions, and characterization.





	1. Pt. 1: Senses (Sound)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy reading these exercises! Some are shippy, some aren't. There will be a whole variety of ratings and warnings used, though I don't think anything will be explicit nor do I think the 'harder' warnings will ever come into play (but this might change, so feel free to skip anything that you take issue with). Every ficlet will be tagged separately with the appropriate information at the beginning of each chapter so my work doesn't take up the entire page, lol. Updates will be irregular as these are fairly casual works, though I will try to complete every prompt on my list. Constructive critique is absolutely welcome as these were written to help hone my skills. Please don't be afraid to say hello!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Think of the most deafening sound you can imagine. Describe it in great detail, and have your character hear it for the first time at the start of a story.
> 
> POV: Tyler  
> Ship(s): Joshler  
> Warnings: None  
> Other Tags: Soulmates, sci-fi, spirituality, space dragons (listen)

**????-1679 AD**

Darkness. Silence. Loneliness. Thousands of years of loneliness. He had four wings, scales, a serpent light-years long. He was waiting for something.

* * *

 

**1680 AD**

Darkness. Silence. Loneliness. Then there was a soft rush of static. It was inaudible to mortal ears in the vacuum, but Tyler's feathers and scales detected the radiation. He looped back, the front of his body crossing over his enormous, ghostly tail again and again as he coiled over an expanse light-years wide, six wings spread to search the cosmos for the source of the sound. His twenty eyes blinked.

The sound was growing louder, and louder, now, from the outer arm of the galaxy he had been born in. He pinpointed the site and saw a large, quaking star, on the verge of collapse. The sound, was rough and crunchy, and below that, wavering. Unstable. It would die any moment now.

He shivered with excitement, releasing a fine dust of ions from beneath his scales.

 _Someone will be born!_ the human in him cried. _Go meet them!_

He took off, disturbing clouds of gas in his wake. Was this the one? Was this star the one for him? Could he go to Earth with them?

The static grew louder now, and now his ears pricked up as sound waves began to travel through the gas. The static gained shape, and he could hear the star howling, errant sparks of particles streaming off its' surface. They pierced his presence and made his scales prickle. He tightened his coils and sped even faster, and he could feel his body contract as his heavier particles approached light speed.

He was getting closer to the star. Radiation was beginning to swell from the dying star in waves, and the brilliant blue orb became immediate in his range of near-infinite vision. He wasn't sure if the strange tugging in his chest was the beginnings of a heart or an effect of the massive star's great gravity. He orbited it at a safe distance, chasing his tail as he watched it finally collapse.

One shell, two shells of gas and matter were blasted violently from the core, and he was briefly blinded and deafened by its sheer brilliance, bright enough to rival the whole galaxy. Immaterial, he was invulnerable to the extreme heat and light. Through the dazzling jets of light, he spotted a long, thin worm of energy traveling along the upper quasar.

Excited, he abandoned the bright shell of glowing gas (and the black hole it left behind) and chased after the newborn serpent, who was rushing off into the depths of space in a blind panic.

 _You!_ he called after them. _Hello!_

The serpent abruptly stopped and wheeled around to face him. Tyler inspected it. Was it a--? Yes, it was another male.

 _Me?_ the serpent asked.  **  
**

_Yes, you. What's your name?_

The serpent stretched his new wings and thought. Tyler watched his face, nothing more than a bright point of light emanating from the top of his neck.

 _My name is Joshua,_ he said, _'salvation'. What's yours? What am I?_

_You're a person-- well, you will be, anyways, once you find your other half. I want to see if you are, that's why I followed you to your star. My name is Tyler-- 'gatekeeper'.  
_

Joshua took a moment to consider the remnants of the supernova around them, noticing them for the first time.

 _That_ is _what I'm here for, come to think of it,_ he said.  _Can we check? How do I do that?_ _  
_

_Just move with me,_ Tyler said. He had performed this dance thousands of times before, with no luck. Every other soul he encountered was too fast, too slow, they looped out too far for him to keep up or they couldn't stop crashing into his wings.

Tyler soared over and began to spiral around him. Joshua moved in time, and there was a speed and agility to his twists and turns that impressed him.

His four wings felt... tactile as he moved. Was this it? Yes, this just might be it!

 _Do you feel it?_ he asked as they swooped up and chased each others' tails. _Your wings. They feel like they're changing._

 _Is that what it is?_ Joshua asked.

Elated, Tyler surged even closer, and Joshua copied, and again there was a rushing feeling in his chest.

 _You're the one!_ they said together.

 _You're lucky you found yours right after emerging_ , Tyler said. _I was wandering through space for eons._

 _But we found each other now,_ Joshua said. _We'll fall to Earth soon, right?_

_That's what I know will happen, yes._

Their wings continued to tighten and constrict, and it took more and more strength to beat them against the vacuum. Something was wrong. They continued chasing each others' tails at a faster and faster speed, held prisoner by their tetanic wings and spines.

 _I can't move,_ Tyler said. _I can't stop._

The stars were nothing but a dizzying blur as they flew around each other. The only thing he could see clearly was the very tip of Josh's tail, and that was coming closer as their spiral began to collapse.

 _I can't move either,_ Josh said. The bright light that made up his face wavered and flickered with nervousness (he was only able to see it from the corners of his hindmost eyes, and even then he was only inferring his expression).

 _What is this?_ Tyler asked, and the words shocked him.

He had been born knowing everything he needed to know-- or so he thought. Doubt stirred cold and deep inside him as they lost control over their spiral, and that had never happened before. The feeling was alarming-- the knowledge that his fate was no longer being decided solely by his own person? Was this love? To lose control?

Closer and closer, and their bodies met, at first only glancing off each other, but soon condensing in an embrace of such great pressure that it became agonizing, and he was reminded of his birth, millions of years ago, forcibly ejected from a massive star long dead. His body pressed on Joshua's body, and now they were so close he could hear his thoughts, and speak his own in turn.

_What's going to happen to us? (I don't know, do you?)_

_Will we be the same? (I don't think that's the point. It hurts.)_

_Will I remember anything about you? (Will I remember anything about you?)_

_I don't even know anything about you yet!_

It grew more and more difficult to tell who was asking and who was answering. After a while, their words merged.

_I don't know what happens next we'll be okay Earth is our final destination is this what death feels like? Are we there yet are we there yet are we there yet--_

* * *

 

**1681-1987 AD**

Darkness. Silence. But not loneliness. There was a singularity. They fell quietly, slowly, towards a blue planet so small it was invisible, even as they could hear the radio waves projected out into space. It was faint, and the words unfamiliar, but they listened together, straining to hear it past the howling radiation of nearby stars.

They watched the stars in unison as they traveled. Tyler realized that he had been traveling so fast for so long that he had no time to stop and look at them in close detail. Severance from the knowledge of the exact pressures and temperatures of their innards left him curious. Was this humanity? To become ignorant? To desire to transcend it through learning?

He and Josh did not speak. They had no need to. They grew comfortable in each other's contours, bowing and bending to one another over time, the way planets settle into orbit.

They had changed shape over time, Tyler was certain. Their wings lost their feathers, their skin lost their scales, and the last of their extra eyes subducted beneath their skin. They were smaller, hairless, vulnerable and fragile like a human, intertwined in each other's... _arms_. That was what they were, right? Josh didn't know if that was what they were really called. They branched off into five smaller digits. So strange.

They dozed off when they entered the Solar System. The closer to the Earth they got, the less alert they became, and as the green continents and white clouds came into view, they fell asleep.

* * *

**1988 AD  
**  


Water. A heartbeat. Darkness. But not loneliness. There was a womb-- a mother, no, two mothers. Amniotic was a poor substitute for a vacuum. But it would do.

Two babies were born in Columbus, Ohio. Happiness awaited them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On one hand, I could just be nice and follow the prompt, but on the other hand, space dragon soulmates. Live deliciously.


	2. Pt. 1: Senses (Smell)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Write a man cooking for a woman on their third date, and have her describe the aromas in such loving and extended detail that she realizes that she's in love with him.
> 
> POV: Jenna  
> Ship(s): Jyler  
> Warnings: Mentions of food  
> Other Tags: Fluff, domesticity, tiny tiny bit of angst

"Are you sure you don't want me to help?"  
  
The scent of hot butter wafted through the small apartment. Jenna sat at the dining table, where Tyler had insisted she stay, reading her novel. From her seat, she could see him chopping carrots at the counter. Their fresh scent  
  
Tyler cut the last piece of carrot and dropped the small pile into a bowl before responding.  
  
"Of course," he said, taking a pinch of salt and seasoning it. The vegetables thunked against the metal bowl and echoed dully as he mixed them with a wooden spoon, backing the sound of the pan as it began to sizzle. "I don't want you to think I can't cook. 'Cause I can. 'Cause I'm trying. I want to put in that effort."  
  
He dumped the vegetables into the pan and leapt back with a yelp when the sizzling reached a crescendo.  
  
"I'm okay, I'm okay, just-- I wasn't expecting that," Tyler said, laughing nervously. I left too much water on them when I put them in, that's all."  
  
"I'll leave you to it, then," she said, deciding not to worry. She unfolded the corner of the page of her book and kept reading, tucking her feet up beneath her.  
  
Late afternoon light streamed in through the balcony door. She could start to smell the vegetables as they cooked, augmented by the spices Tyler had recently bought.  
  
She closed her eyes and breathed in deep. It didn't smell like her mother's cooking-- Tyler had elected to use stronger flavors, tandoori, rosemary, and lemon. There was a rough grinding sound, and she caught the scent of black pepper. She leaned back in her seat and listened to the sizzle of the chicken Tyler had set aside earlier.  
  
The kitchen was a cocoon of warmth and scent and sound, and Jenna had the urge to nestle inside it. At the heart of it was Tyler-- who had already, by the second month, exceeded her expectations. And they weren't low-- really! She came into the game knowing what she was looking for. She just hadn't expected that the one person she had flippantly agreed to have coffee with once would be so... this. Whatever 'this' was. 'This' was always asking her how her day went and correcting himself if he interrupted her. 'This' making a fool of himself trying to open heavy doors for her to make her laugh. 'This' was cooking for her, because he wanted to show her that he was capable of pulling his weight at home because he--  
  
She stopped herself there. Because he what? Cared about her? Wanted to be involved with her home? The idea gave her vertigo, not because it disquieted her but because of how strongly she found herself agreeing with the idea.  
  
_Slow down,_ she told herself over the pop! of hot oil. _You've known him for two months. Remember what happened the last time? Yeah, vodka happened. A whole bottle of it. And a whole month of moping. You could barely get out of bed because you thought you loved the guy. Remember that?_  
  
Jenna sighed silently and opened her eyes, staring at the popcorn ceiling. The smoke detector blinked green. The chicken sizzled, and behind the sound was a faint buzzing. Jenna realized that Tyler was humming something, probably a pop song from 2008 if she knew Tyler at all (did she?).  
  
It takes a lifetime to know someone like you know yourself (the scent of hot butter took on a starchy profile as it mixed with the chopped potatoes). True love takes constant work and compromise (the sweetness of the carrots and the sharpness of the paprika wavered). Drastic changes of personality can come when they're least expected (the onions took on a sweet scent as they caramelized in the heat). All true love ends in either tears or death (the chicken smelled rich and gamey).  
  
There was the click of the stove and the sizzling stopped soon afterward. The cupboards squeaked as they opened them, and Jenna turned her head to see Tyler rooting through the cabinets for some dishes. His head darted back and forth, keen and birdlike, as he spooned two servings of stir-fry onto two plates. He lifted the lid on a pot of jasmine rice he had been cooking on the side, and its light, fragrant scent made something in her chest feel a bit lighter as he added it to their meal. She watched him take one plate in each hand and leave the kitchen, entering the dining room and setting the plates down.  
  
Tyler sat down opposite of her and frowned.  
  
"I forgot the forks," he said, looking down at the food like it was to blame. "I'll be right back."  
  
Jenna smiled to herself as she watched Tyler return to the kitchen to fetch some utensils (stopping to get two glasses of water along the way).  
  
"Here we go," Tyler said on returning. He stooped down behind her to set down a glass of water to her right and place a fork on her left. His skin was warm from his proximity the stove.  
  
"Thank you," she said as he sat back down. "The food looks really good, you know."  
  
And she wasn't lying. It was clear that Tyler had put a lot of effort into the meal. Everything was chopped evenly and nothing was burnt, undercooked, or both. Steam wafted off the food and she took a second to close her eyes and breathe in the scent.  
"Does it?" Tyler asked, looking bashful behind a veil of steam. "Thanks. I hope it tastes good. We can-- I guess we can start eating."  
  
The first bite. This was her favorite part of every meal. It was just as satisfying as she had expected it to be. She hummed her approval and took more, glancing up at Tyler. He looked so relieved to have her approval. It was a good feeling.  
  
She stole more glances through the meal. She couldn't help it. He had such a gentle face, motions of the hands and wrists that were loose but deliberate, promising someone who was always aware of the space around them and molded to it. There was the curve of his ears, the soft sheen of his hair. The tiny patch of stubble near his jaw he had missed.  
  
Jenna wouldn't say it out loud. Not yet. Not now. Maybe never, if this endeavor was as fruitless as the last. But it was there, she realized that, and maybe Tyler did too, if he was as quick-witted as the permanent gleam in his eyes seemed to suggest. That was good enough for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')


	3. Pt. 1: Senses (Sight)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. Pick a line from one of your favorite songs, and identify the main emotion. Now write a character who is feeling that emotion and hears that song. Try to describe the music in such a way that you will make the reader yearn to hear the song as well.
> 
> I was looking at the 'senses' list and I realized that there was no prompt for 'sight' for some reason. Now, I like this prompt, but it's technically another 'sound' prompt so I'm gonna do what I do best: stop what I'm doing, listen to someone else's side of the story, and then proceed to do what I was planning on doing anyways. I guess I combined it with sound, but eh.
> 
> POV: Josh  
> Pairing: Joshler, kinda  
> Warnings: uh, death, sort of, I think  
> Tags: Sirens

Josh took off his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow. Salt water lapped at the edge of his raft, a healthy morning breeze whisking the smell of fish away. The shore was invisible at this distance, and faint smudges of the nearest archipelago lay to the north. The water was shallow in this part of the world, and he could see the sandy ocean bed from here through translucent green water. Leopard sharks and small schools of fish dominated the waters, neither of which were very good for eating.

Balancing on the raft, he hoisted up his nets and sighed when they came up empty. He'd have to go farther north, into deeper waters. At this rate, he'd reach the other islands looking for fish.

He hoisted the small sail and sat on the small bench attached to the craft, grabbing hold over the rudder and changing direction. The process was automatic after years on the water, and he let his mind wander.

It wasn't overfishing. He knew that. For generations they had fished and dived and trapped and their records showed no increase in consumption. The records also showed no change in weather. He hadn't counted more storms in recent years. There weren't more sharks or algae, either. So what had changed?

Sadie told him it was merpeople. She said she had seen one on the overgrown reef, the area Josh was headed for right now, where millions of years of coral and shifting tides had revealed low, stony outgrowths that were rich in fish but treacherous to navigate. She said she saw it perched on one of the rocks, sunning itself, its back to her. He nodded and listened to her story, but privately, he knew it was probably just a seal. That's what they always were. He'd go there and look and tell her that yes, he went to the reef and it's covered in seals, not mermaids.

Although mermaids would explain the lack of fish.

He came to a stop about a quarter of a mile from the reef. There were no mermaids there, nor any seals. Or fish, which he ascertained when he peeked over the edge of the raft into the water.

Then, over the breeze, he heard [something](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZLPo6XgsIM). Something he wouldn't expect to ever hear so far from shore.

Singing.

_There's a part of me you'll never know_

_The only thing I'll never show._

His ears pricked at the sound and he whirled around to try and locate the source of the sound, nearly upsetting the raft in the process. A deep, sweet ache appeared in his chest, and he swallowed hard, trying to bite back tears. He had never heard music like this in his life. He had to find it.

There were no other boats visible, and the singing sounded so close to his ears. The only place left to look was the reef. He squinted to get a better view of the rocks, and there he saw it. The rocks were a dark brown, nearly black, and on top of one, he could see a tan figure, and behind it, two more. Wait, what?

He decided not to bother with the sail and grabbed ahold of the oars on either side of the boat, rowing a bit closer to get a better look.

Now he was about a thousand feet away from the rocks. The song hadn't stopped, and it was even louder than before. The waves were a little choppier here, where the currents were disturbed by the dozens of rocks.

_Hopelessly, I'll love you endlessly_

_Hopelessly, I'll give you everything_

_But I won't give you up_

_I won't let you down_

_And I won't leave you falling_

_If the moment ever comes._

He could see the figure(s?) on the reef better now. There was only one figure, and he had-- he had wings.

Josh should have been too far from the rocks to have a clear view of his face, but everything about this possibly-human creature seemed to defy all reason and rationality. He had the wings of a barn owl, with taloned hands and eyes that were pure black, strange symbols burned onto his skin. His eyelashes were long and full and fanned against his rosy and unmarred cheeks. He performed with passion to an empty sea, and Josh was transfixed by the graceful motions of his limbs and the twisting of his torso as he wrenched his music from his lungs.

Josh could somehow tell that his pupilless eyes were trained on him.

_It's plain to see it's trying to speak_

_Cherished dreams forever asleep_

The light seemed to reflect from the waves onto him, and his whole body was illuminated in a heavenly glow. Sadie was wrong. There were no mermaids here; there were angels.

Josh wanted, wanted, _needed_ nothing more but to be near this magnificent creature, and he looked down at the treacherous waves beneath him and realized that he probably wouldn't be able to join Josh on the raft. It was hardly able to fit him, and the sea spray would dampen his feathers and prevent him from flying away. ( _Good,_ an evil part of him thought.)

He didn't need to think as he leapt off the raft and into the cold Pacific water. The current was strong, but consuming rapture and a lifetime of swimming gave him confidence and strength. He breached his head above the water and breathed in deep, ocean water soaking his tongue. He tried to keep at least one ear above the water as he swam closer to the rocks, desperate not to lose the sound of the angel's singing.

He looked up as he paddled, and the man was reaching for Josh now, kneeling on the rocks and reaching out as if he were desperate to meet Josh as well, held captive by his own wings. As josh approached, he could see that tears streaked from his rayless eyes down his cheeks and his heart broke to match.

The waves were intolerable now, cresting over his head and drawing him closer to the dangerous, craggy edges of the reef. Josh was battered by a particularly strong one, sucking him deep underwater. The singing abruptly disappeared, and the desperate feeling evaporated.

Panic coursed through his body. What had just happened? He hadn't been conscious of anything from the moment he had heard the singing until now. He couldn't breathe. He didn't have nearly enough air. His eyes opened and burned against the salt as he slowly rose to the surface from his natural buoyancy, and he could see a mountain of white, which, on closer inspection, were the skeletons of millions. And millions. Of fish.

 _Oh God,_ he thought. _This is what happened to the fish._

His lungs were burning, searing, and the need for air was getting stronger and stronger by the minute, its own siren-song. But he couldn't surface, because that-- that _thing_ was waiting for him not twenty feet away. He let out an airless sob and let himself float to the surface. He'd just take one breath, and he'd go back under and make it back to his raft and sail far, far away from that siren and tell everyone he knew, whether they believed him or not.

He breached the surface and gasped, and gasped, and gasped, and he covered his ears and kept as much of his head underwater as possible, but he could see the siren standing on the rocks and looking down at him, a wide smile on its face despite its sad song and even now, Josh couldn't help but think how beautiful it was, how--

A wave crested over his head and everything was green and fluid and lucid. Right. Swimming. He began to swim away from the reef, but the current was against him. He covered his ears and surfaced again, and he repeated the process until he was about a hundred feet away from the siren.

There was a loud splash behind him, and the singing started again.

_Hopelessly, I'll love you endlessly_

_Hopelessly, I'll give you everything--_

He was lost, and found again. The angel was back, and he could swim, his wings spreading underwater and beating and bring his glory closer and closer to Josh. Josh hovered just beneath the surface, staring. The angel came closer, and reached out, and Josh kicked his feet to finally bridge the gap between them, and when they touched, he discovered that he didn't need air to breathe. Water rushed into his lungs as he folded into his arms, finally, finally.

_But I won't give you up_

_I won't let you down_

_And I won't leave you falling_

_But the moment never comes._

They spiraled around each other underwater, and his song was clear and smooth even without air. Waves crested over their heads, and at this depth, they had less force than a gentle breeze. The siren suddenly held onto Josh tighter, and he reciprocated automatically as he began to turn them another direction-- up or down, Josh couldn't tell at this point, and did that matter? Did it? His wings spread, and they cast their own glow in the water, turning everything to gold as they flew up, up, up, _(down, down, down)_ into the burning white sky above _(into the bone-white sand below)_ , and Josh was lost _(Josh was lost)_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I started to fill this prompt, but it got out of hand and became its own story, which will be posted separately.
> 
> God, I was trying so hard not to turn this songfic into a Songfic (2009). [Also, here's the lyrics to the song if you want it!](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/muse/endlessly.html)
> 
> I know that modern pop culture portrays sirens as either mermaids or creatures very similar to them, but in ancient Greek myth, they were actually bird-like creatures, which, while kind of strange for a marine monster, very interesting.


	4. Pt. 1: Senses (Touch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. Have a character dine at a blind restaurant, a restaurant in pitch blackness where all the servers are blind, and describe how the tablecloth, their clothing, and the hand of their dining partner feels different in the darkness.
> 
> Once again, I cannot follow simple directions. 
> 
> POV: Tyler  
> Pairing(s): Joshler  
> Warnings: CANNIBALISM (whee), drugs  
> Additional Tags: Hannibal!Josh, aka Josh eats people and not in a sexy way, he gets Tyler in on it too, no one actually dies in-story dw

He was somewhere in Italy, in the apartment Josh has been hiding in. He was sitting at his dining table, an IV line in his left arm pumping him full of opioids, and Josh was not going to eat him-- the rich smell from the kitchen guaranteed that. That was all he was sure of.

The blindfold was thick and secured with a gentle hand and a stroke over his hair, dampened with the sweat of summer. But not fear. Tyler hadn't been afraid of Josh for years.

His fingers drummed on the cool table. If he could guess, he'd say that the table was made of some fine, dark wood, without a single scratch. There would be a book, or a few magazines, on cosmology on some perilous corner of the table, and a few pens and a notepad next to them. Just like the way he remembered the dining table back in Ohio. 

Josh was not in the dining room. He was in the kitchen, and Tyler could hear his footfalls as he padded softly back and forth, preparing the final touches for their meal. Tyler shut his eyes beneath his blindfold and breathed through his high, his head swimming when he tilted his head back.

Mark must be losing his mind right now. It had been several hours (hopefully it was hours-- he hoped to God it hadn't been days) since he'd accepted Josh's _invitation_ and the rest of the investigation team would have noticed his absence immediately. But Italy was a country of tight, winding streets and buildings older and taller than trees, and they were a bunch of clueless Americans looking for a particularly dangerous needle in the metaphorical haystack. Tyler knew that they wouldn't find him. Josh would release him if he asked. But did he really want to?

Tyler's ears pricked up at the sound of Josh's humming. He only did that when they were alone together, and _oh,_ it feels like it's been forever since he's last heard the sound. Despite everything (the scar on his stomach aching), he's missed it, and it provided him some comfort. 

_You'll never hear it again if they find him,_ Tyler thought to himself, and hey, when did he start thinking of the FBI as _them?_

His right hand idly scraped at the bandage covering the injection point. It had been secured with duct tape. His limbs felt heavy and weak, and he dropped them back down on the arms of the chair after about a minute. He could hear a bottle of liquor being opened and the squeak of the cupboard. Then came the clinking of two glasses as Josh selected them and set them down on the counter (stone). Pouring. Recapping. Then the cupboard doors closed again. 

An egg timer went off with a pleasant chime. The oven opened. Tyler's shoulders pressed into the wooden back of the seat. The smell of cooking meat (it smelled like veal, but Tyler knew better) grew stronger, and despite himself, his stomach growled.

This wasn't the first time he'd eaten human flesh. He knew that now, after he had first pieced it together years ago. He remembered enjoying it before he knew what it was, and he remembered enjoying it after he knew. It should have made him feel bad. It did. It does. He wanted to blame his muddled thoughts and appetite on the drugs, but something deeper and darker, something that sounded exactly like Josh's voice, told him the unpleasant reality: he was made for this. He was wired to kill, just like Josh.

Josh's footsteps grew closer, and he stopped at his right in order to gently place a plate down in front of him, then a glass of something.

The steam wafted up into Tyler's face, and he could identify the dish without seeing it: tenderloin with roasted artichoke hearts. Josh had served him this once before. He had never found out who he had killed to make that dish, and he wondered if Josh would tell him if he asked now.

There was the soft _thunk_ of Josh setting down his own plate, and then the gentle scrape of his chair against the wooden floor and the creak of his weight settling on top of it.

The table was smaller than he expected. His feet were bound to the legs of the chair, but he could feel the distant warmth of Josh's legs and smell the steam from his plate.

"You recognize this dish, don't you?" Josh asked, and his voice had the strange tendency to fill the room, no matter how softly he spoke. "I thought it would be nice if I made it again. For old time's sake."

Tyler heard Josh pick up his fork and start to cut into the tender meat. He remembered how soft the meat had been when he ate it last-- the tissue giving way beneath the knife so easily he was tempted to just pull it apart with the fork.

Tyler fumbled for his utensils. The knife was on the left and the fork was on the right. Carefully, he closed his fingers around the cool metal and adjusted them. He found the plate and fumbled about until he located the meat.

He raised his knife to pierce into the cut, then hesitated. _Did he really want to do this?_ he thought. _Did he love him that much?_

This meal was for him. This whole escapade in Italy was for him. Josh might be toying with the FBI, but he was dancing with Tyler. He could say no. He could ask to be let out, he could trick him and kill him right here and now and Josh would let him. Tyler knew that because he had tried many, many times, and yet when the moment came, he had never managed to actually finish Josh and put him out of his misery. What did that say about him?

Tyler added pressure to the fork and felt the metal tines sink into the meat. He raised his hand holding the knife and cut it in slow, deliberate movements. Once the piece was freed, he raised the meat to his mouth and pulled it into his mouth.

It was tender, rich, and flavorful without being overwhelming. The fibers of the flesh came apart easily and didn't leave his mouth dry. The savory flavor burst over his tongue and sharpened his hunger, and he could hear that Josh had stopped eating to watch him.

"How is it?" Josh asked after Tyler had swallowed the first bite.

"It-- it's good," Tyler said, struggling to form words. "Who was it?"

"A cosmology student from Padua," Josh said. "He was one of mine, actually, and at the top of the class."

"You're teaching again?" Tyler couldn't help but ask. 

"Only part time," Josh said. "It's nice to have something to do. I've been lonely."

The words surprised him. He didn't think Josh was _capable_ of feeling lonely. Or did those words only apply in reference to Tyler?

Tyler cut another piece of flesh and ate it. One bite, one question. That was fair.

Quietly, Tyler pitied the poor student as he ate. By now he was familiar with Josh's tactics, and he expected to hear news in upcoming days of the rest of his body being found amongst the displays in the physics museum of Padua's university, or perhaps suspended from the belfry of the local Quattrocento-era chapel. What was it about that man that had hurt Josh?

"How's Mark doing?" Josh asked before taking a sip of his drink. "And Jenna? It's been a while since I got to talk with them. Are they okay?"

Tyler wasn't sure if the concern tinging his voice was real or not. "They're... recovering," he said. "And they're not happy about this whole thing. Italy. Technically the FBI isn't supposed to get involved with international affairs, but they made an exception for you."

"The weather's nicer here," Josh said. "I figured you'd appreciate it. Less corn, too, lower cost of living. Did you ever get the time to see the Vatican? Or go to a museum?"

"Nope," Tyler said, moving to take another piece of flesh before changing his mind and forking an artichoke heart. The tender vegetable gave way easily beneath the tines of his fork. "Too busy trying to find a serial killer."

"No luck?"

"None at all."

The serving size was smaller than Tyler had expected, and the meal ended a few minutes later.

"Now what?" Tyler asked. The IV bag had run dry. The taste of meat lingered on his tongue.

Josh sighed, a soft, gentle sound.

"That's up to you," he said. "Do you want to go back to the police? Where it's safe? Or do you want to stay a little longer? I have the time."

Tyler swallowed and tried to think past his drugged haze. It's been weeks-- months? since he'd last seen Josh. It suddenly occurred to him that Josh might look different now, after spending so much time soaking up the Mediterranean sun. He remembered that sun-faded family photo Josh had in his office-- the only one of its kind, the only indication that Josh was actually born through natural means. He had freckles, then.

"I'll stay," Tyler said. "Only if you get this blindfold off me. I won't tell Mark."

He could practically hear Josh's beaming.

He heard Josh's chair scrape lightly as he got out and made his way over to Tyler's side, his footsteps always so light. Tyler felt the warmth of his body as he approached, and he resisted the urge to lean into it. He was lonely, yes, and he missed Josh, as awful as it was and as unwilling he was to admit it.

Gentle fingers twiddled at the knot at the back of his head, and the black cloth fell away, revealing Josh's apartment.

Tyler had to blink before his eyes were accustomed to the light. Josh was at his left, a small smile on his face, making his eyes crinkle the way Tyler remembered them doing. He had a healthy tan now, and his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were dotted in what must be hundreds of freckles. He hadn't shaved for a few days, and his chin was peppered with soft-looking stubble. His hair was a little longer, black and healthy and shiny save for one greying strand at his temple, and Tyler had the urge to run his hands through it all. He was wearing an eggshell-white shirt, and a deep red tie. He didn't look as stiff and pressed as he remembered him back in America.

"Your cologne is still horrible," Josh joked, and good God, something Tyler hadn't realized was disquiet inside him had settled at the sight of him. (He was still going to bring him in. That was why he was here. He couldn't let himself forget. Not like the last time.)

"Thanks," Tyler said. "Not like yours is much better."

Josh smiled again, and it looked so genuine, his teeth so perfect and clean, that it was easy to not notice the small fleck of blood between his incisor and canine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on a Red Dragon AU for some time now and I realized that these prompts are perfect for developing story ideas that aren't quite concrete yet. (Also: Hannibal Lecter is ~50 years old in canon, and if Josh is this age in the early 2010s, then he would have been old enough to have been one of the OG punks from the 70s/80s and the mere thought of that concept is so fucking powerful it flayed me alive)


End file.
